The City That Never Hibernates
by Panfila
Summary: Broken hearts. Unsolved crimes. Turn back now.
1. CHORUS ONE :: Wild and Free

**_Hello._**

 ** _I won't lie, this is a weird one. It's not like the other fics you'll read today; it's as slow, painful, and real as a story about talking animals can be. Maybe realer than a story about talking humans can be, and probably worse. Let's see how bad it can get, yeah?_**

 ** _~Panfila_**

.

* * *

A long time ago, many years into the future, there is a place called ZOOTOPIA.

It is a hotbed of life and decay, a den of love and lies, a bubbling cauldron of beauty and caution. Beasts roam their homemade jungle, tamed but just as FIERCE and HUNGRY and WILD and FREE as their forefathers.

Zootopia is a dream within a dream, and nobody wants to wake up. Because there is one rule in Zootopia: ANYONE CAN BE ANYTHING. Every dog has their day. Every yak has their year. Every llama has their life.

There is a place for everyone and everything, a space for  
dark eyes and wet fur,  
blackmail and parking spots,  
crushed cans and comedians,  
codes of silence and gossip rags,  
champions and reunions,  
old friends and terrorists,  
vagrants and vigilantes,  
paragons and con jobs,  
memories and IOUs,  
chases and asylums,  
and, above all, endless MYSTERY.

Because when anyone can be anything, anyone can be a hero and anyone can be a nightmare...

Welcome to Zootopia.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

* * *

 **CHORUS ONE :: Wild and Free**

* * *

"So... you're pretty quiet tonight." Judy leans over from the driver's seat, nose-first.

"Oh, that's right. I promised I'd perform the opera I wrote for you, didn't I? Silly me."

Officer Judy Hopps rolls her eyes, looking extra dramatic with her large violet bunny irises. "If you don't tell me what has you so sullen, this patrol is going to feel so much longer."

Nick Wilde stares at his small partner with a single fallen eyebrow for a beat. "I'm not 'sullen,' I'm pensive."

"About?"

"Ya know, when I listened to you six months ago and applied to the Zootopia Police Department, I figured when I got out of training there would be a lot more… policing."

"Are you kidding me?" She presses onto a steering wheel that's almost as big as she is and throws her hands toward the windshield. "Look at this!"

Outside the police car, the district of Savannah Central buzzes with activity: a pair of caribou whisper and chuckle around a candlelit table outside a nearby restaurant; a cluster of young leopards laugh as they jostle down Antler Avenue; pockets of civilians enjoy the crisp night air of the bustling city center as they head home.

"Look at all these animals. Look at their faces. They're happy because we're protecting them!"

"Protecting them from inside a car. In the shadow of an alleyway."

"You're right, partner. We'd be much more effective if we got down and mingled with the citizens. Let them know we're here for them. I'm a little behind on my cardio for the week, anyway. I could go a good couple of miles."

"No, no, not what I meant at all! I meant…" Nick frowns a bit and looks over at his partner. "How do I say this? I thought it'd be more… not boring?"

"Boring?!" She hops in place. "Nick, policework isn't about excitement. It's about making a difference in animal's lives and keeping the peace. It's about letting regular folks sleep at night and being there to say 'Good morning!' when they wake up."

Nick stifles a smile. She's serious, but it strikes him as funny that even standing in her seat, she's only just his same height. Bunnies never stop being funny… "That's word-for-word from the manual, Carrots."

"Doesn't mean it's not true. Deep down, everyone is good inside, and they deserve to have us watching their back."

"Now, I'm not saying you're wrong — you absolutely are, though — but what on earth makes you say that?"

"What? That everyone deserves protection?! For crackers' sake, it's the ZPD motto: Protect and serve! Did you already forget what they taught you at the academy? I know it was on the final—"

"Slow your roll, Cottontail. I'm talking about everyone being good. I mean, do you even _remember_ the—"

Nick stops himself.

It's been six months since the Savage Summer. The official name for the event is the "Night Howler Outbreak" (as if the pellets of plant poison grew naturally, squeezed into organic guns, and shot themselves at citizens around the city without anyone pulling the trigger). It was a massive public fiasco, so it was no surprise the official language of the event avoided as many specifics and names as possible. Public details remained fuzzy, but the media fell in love with the sensationalism and alliteration so "Savage Summer" has been on the city's tongues for the past six months.

It was how Nick and Judy met, first as officer and suspect, then as investigator and CI, then as ad hoc partners. Now, they're actual partners, sitting in their partner vehicle, patrolling their partner beat.

Which is why Nick stops himself from talking.

Because despite how successful the case was, it left a lot of things… unresolved.

He musters a smile that covers the serious turn in conversation. "Just remember, you never know what other animals are doing out there, Jude."

* * *

"What am I doing!?"

Jin drops his head on the table. There's no heavy, satisfying _thud_ … only a soft _thwap_ cushioned by a thick layer of papers strewn about the wide, wooden surface. The ache on his forehead isn't enough to distract from how good it feels to finally rest his weary head on something. For a brief moment, he just enjoys the interruption.

Finally, better sense wins out, and he raises his head from the table. Across the room, the clock glows with the time: 8 PM.

Jin pops up and lightly slaps his face. "Crunch time! Crunch time! Crunch time!"

He rubs the black circles around his eyes. Raccoons may be nocturnal, but they still need sleep. And 8 PM makes it a full 14-hour day he's spent at the office with nothing to show for it. Nothing but piles of the same paperwork.

"Gale?" he calls out.

No answer.

"Gale, can you come help me out?"

A distant train rumbles in its tracks.

That means he's truly alone in the Zootopia District Attorney's office, stuck with nothing but a mountain of evidence for the Night Howler Outbreak prosecution. And when the boss walks in tomorrow morning, Jin will have nothing new, no fresh angle, no revolutionary discovery from the landslide of papers. And the office of District Attorney Lyons will never come to think of him when the Assistant District Attorney position opens up. He'll be a glorified errand boy until the end of time.

He stares at a picture of Dawn Bellwether. It's not the one from the papers, but one from the city employment records. In all truth, the lamb looks innocent, harmless, and a little cute. And somehow, that innocent-looking lamb brought the entire city of Zootopia to its knees for one Savage Summer...

"How?" he wonders. "Where does it all even come from?"

The contracts, the connections, the contraband, the media circus… it's all so conniving and convoluted and completely handled by one little animal. One little animal that would be suspicious if she went anywhere, never mind places where she'd meet the tough guys that were involved in this conspiracy. Dawn Bellwether would be out-of-place if she went anywhere alone.

Crunch time.

Jin's deft little raccoon hands brush aside papers, flipping past reports and analysis, relevant case precedents, when another picture catches his eye. He digs it out and holds it up: a full-page picture, freshly printed and added as an afterthought to the background files. The gears in his head start turning as his eyes shine in the dim light of the darkened workroom.

"Mary's little lamb… handling the Savage Summer all on her lonesome…?"

Jin stares at the picture and can almost feel the mystery deepening around him. The inconsistencies are obvious. The alibis are suddenly translucent. The questions and problems pile up faster than he can fully grasp. And at the center of it all... the picture in his hands of another little animal: innocent, harmless, and a little cute.

Officer Judy Hopps.


	2. The Only Sensible Way - part 1

_**"I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness is the only sensible way to love."**_

 _ **~Francois Sagon**_

 **.**

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 1)**

* * *

It's hot in the tiny car, so hot it almost feels like his glasses are sweating. He gingerly removes the spectacles and wipes the lenses on his shirt. It's a fruitless effort, leaving them as smudged as before.

He puts them back on and waits.

Humidity seeps from outside through the worn-out rubber seal of the car door, making it feel like he's standing outside in the nighttime drizzle of the Rainforest District instead of the driver's seat of a Hogda Civic.

Through the watery windshield, he fixates on an illuminated figure across the parking lot: a smiling deer with impressive antlers giving a thumbs up. His smile is saccharine and almost sarcastic. Good luck, it seems he's saying, you'll need it.

The driver exhales loudly, deeply, emptying everything in his lungs as if to not exist for a few seconds.

He inhales again and leans forward, searching through the darkness and rain at the entrance of the locale for activity. He finally recognizes a signal and nods grimly, giving the go-ahead to some invisible force. Reaching beneath the seat, he plucks a clump of black cloth and stretches it over his head.

He looks into the rearview. A black ski mask stares back.

"No turning back now."

* * *

"...'round-the-clock surveillance, direct investigation into the source of the threats and vandalism, and thorough witness vetting. This is top priority with the highest discretion, and we'll be responding as such."

The officers nod in agreement. It's a precinct-wide idiosyncrasy, punctuating distinct pauses between Chief Bogo's big thoughts with headshakes, and it's one passed on to each batch of new recruits.

The chief doesn't need their approval; he doesn't even necessarily need their attention. But he's trained the entire precinct of officers to respond to him with reinforced respect. Everything begins and ends with respect.

"Assignments are here in your squad folders. We'll have check-ins and updates throughout the week. So, pick them up and head out. Dismissed."

A few steps away, he spots Judy already at the briefing room desk, thumbing through the stack. He picks up the pace and barely makes it halfway across the room before he hears it.

"Chief Bogo, may I have a word?"

He waits in place as the bunny meets him. At least the other officers are dutifully filing out, leaving the room nearly empty, save for Officer Wilde...

"I think there may be a mistake here," Judy begins. She flips from the back page where she's finished reading to the front of the folder. "It says here that Nick and I are investigating… some shoplifting?"

Nick parks a few steps behind her, having taken his time following after his partner. There's a tension to the burgeoning conversation that he is not eager to be a part of.

"Armed robbery, Officer Hopps."

"At a One Buck Store—"

"—At a half-dozen One Buck Stores."

Judy's right foot twitches, shuffling side-to-side in an obvious attempt to stifle a rapid thumping motion against the ground. She inhales quietly and calms her voice. "Sir, with all due respect, you just finished briefing us on a threat to the entire city of Zootopia, and I think both my partner and I can be extremely strong assets in the precinct-wide effort to—"

"I think your partner and you can be extremely strong assets in handling the case assigned in your folder."

"Please reconsider. We have experience with this kind of heavy situation and—"

"I don't care about your experience." The cape buffalo turns, satisfied with the resolution, and trudges away. He barely touches the doorknob before the rebuttal arrives.

"Chief, I don't understand!" Judy finds herself speaking louder than she means to and has no idea how to stop. "Haven't I proved myself already?! Haven't **WE** proved ourselves? Several times! We pursued and blew a major case wide open last summer without any support. We saved the city from its own mayor! We're the top officers on the force!"

"The TOP officers?" Bogo stops and turns to the diminutive officer. "The top officers? You may be the face of the force, Officer Hopps, but you are far from being even the **THIRD** best officer we have on the force."

"Delgato!" Chief Bogo nods at a tiger police seated in the corner reviewing his papers. "How many sting operations have you run?"

Without missing a beat, he faces up and answers. "Eleven last year, sir."

"How long have you served on the force?"

"Eight years."

" _Eight_ years _,_ Hopps." Bogo steps closer. "You have served here for  six months. Officer Wilde and you did a commendable job last summer with the Night Howler Outbreak, I am not interested in denying that. But one case — the official reports of which are filled to the brim with borderline illegal searches and seizures, blatant trespassing, and outright blackmail — does not make a reputable officer of the Zootopia Police Department, it makes a pretty face and a media darling. And make no mistake about it, you are nothing right now but the face, the model of the ZPD."

Judy stares back, blindsided but defiant. "I am not a **model**."

"Not if you keep skipping the eyebrows, Carrots…" Nick mutters from the side, clearly uncomfortable.

"You certainly are not a veteran," Bogo says. "And you certainly are acting presumptuous and insubordinate to your commanding officer — who has years of experience and spends hours strategizing how to allocate his officers. So I would think very carefully about your next words."

Bogo leans in, something he rarely does for the smaller officer, and meets Judy almost eye-to-eye. The maelstrom of conflicting emotions whirls across her face. In the end, there are too many outrages competing at once.

"We will investigate these robberies, _**Sir**_."

"Glad to hear it, Officer Hopps. Dismissed."

The cape buffalo chieftain tromps away, wondering how the week has barely started and he's already wishing it was over…

* * *

Judy marches out the door of the briefing room and hops into her little desk, leaving Nick less than enthused about ambling after her. He reaches his own desk, pushed up against and facing Judy's, and does his best to move right along.

"So… I guess we should head out to the One Bucks that got held up?"

"Why didn't you back me up in there?"

Nick raises an eyebrow, aiming for being playfully dismissive. "Why didn't you let me know you were about to call us the 'top officers on the force'?"

"We are _very good_ officers. And you could have said something to help."

"I am a _very adequate_ officer. And how was I supposed to help? Chief Bogo gave us orders."

Judy rolls her eyes incredulously. "I seem to recall you having no problem standing up to him when we were on the trail of the night howlers. What happened to that Nick?"

" _That_ Nick was a quasi-legal huckster. _He_ wasn't an employee of the Zootopia Police Department who could be fired for insubordination in the blink of a buffalo's eye."

"What I'm hearing is… ' _that_ Nick was braver and a better friend.'"

"Okaaaaay Carrots, you wanna talk better friend? Here's some friendly truth: You're being a sore loser."

"What? _I'm_ a sore loser?"

"So we're not working on the case. Big whoop. This isn't the Savage Summer; there's plenty of police attention and resources going to this conspiracy… threat… plot… thing. (I don't know, it's real hard to follow Captain Buffalo sometimes. Guy is sometimes not as clear as he thinks he is.) Anyway... **somebody** is working it and animals are getting helped. In the meantime, **somebody else** needs us to make a difference to their cheap, knock-off tchotchke stores."

Judy looks away, a touch embarrassed. "Maybe... But it was still out of line to call me the 'Face' of the ZPD."

Nick smirks.

"You're telling me. But you can't hold it against Chief Bogo if he's crazy enough to think you have a face other animals find attractive. Now..." He snatches the keys off her desk and walks backward. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but I'm leaving to go do some honest work. And because it's tedious, I know you're coming, too. So hop to it."

Judy follows his departure with her eyes, mouth agape. Not just for managing to (accurately) lecture her the next morning after she pulled rank on him, but also because of the keys—her keys—dangling like wind chimes between his paws. Oh, the NERVE on that one…

Her mouth closes into a tiny, frustrated smile; she grabs the case file and leaps from her desk chair, mentally preparing some questions to spread around the neighborhood where the One Buck stores were held up.

She only takes a few steps before coming to an obstacle in her path.

"Officer Judy Hopps?"

A raccoon stands before her, looking serious as rabies and decidedly less friendly.

"I'm Jin Feng from the Zootopia District Attorney's office. I'm afraid I need to ask you some questions about your role in the Night Howler Outbreak."


	3. The Only Sensible Way - part 2

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 2)**

* * *

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

He's almost worn a rut in the kitchen floor from all the pacing he's done that morning — back and forth, from the table to the window, muttering and rubbing his mouth with his paws like he's trying to keep the words from tumbling out of his snout. It doesn't work; he mutters quietly, keeping his voice low and sneaking looks into the bedroom.

From the window in the living room, he can see his Hogda Civic, still dirty from the mud of the Rainforest District floor. His heart beats faster with realization. The neighbors can see the car and will know it's out of place; it's parked right along the side of the street, plainly visible to the world. It's evidence.

He should take it to the carwash! Or no... the employees would remember seeing it. He should wash it himself. No, the neighbors would certainly watch him in the act. He should take it out of town, to Sahara Square maybe, and wash it. Or is that too suspicious? He should abandon the car. No!

He absentmindedly walks to the small refrigerator and pulls it open. There's so little food inside, his head fits inside without touching anything. The smell of decayed meat permeates the small space.

The car is one of two things keeping the whole thing together. To lose it now would be…

He winces: the medication. He should pull over and wash the car on the way to the pharmacist; it's past time for a refill. But no, he can't go yet. First—

 **BRRRNNG!**

Recoiling from the ancient landline telephone fused to the apartment wall, he hesitates as it shakes again.

 **BRRRNN** —

He pulls up the phone gingerly for a passing moment then settles it back into its cradle like a fussy baby, darting eyes to the nearby doorway.

Snatching a light, slick jacket, he unlocks the front door.

"I'm going out for some milk. Don't worry about me, I'll be back before you know it."

He'll get the medication. But first, he needs to get the money.

* * *

"Where did I get the money...?"

An obtrusively large, beaten-up briefcase sits on the table. Jin disappears into it momentarily, drags out a thick manila folder, and drops it on the steel table. He leans closer and paws quickly through the contents, fingers dancing like ballerinas over the papers. It's easily the most _raccoon_ thing Judy's ever seen in her life.

It would be funnier — and more calming — if they weren't in a dark room with gray brick walls and only a steel table and flickering fluorescent lighting for decoration. Why the interrogation rooms are the only available space to talk, Judy doesn't know, but if she wasn't uneasy before, she is straight up unsettled now. She answers slowly.

"I-I… I worked for it. At my parents' farm. Every summer since fifth grade. Everything I made went to my account at the Bank of the Burrows. I always knew I wanted to move to Zootopia and everybody knows it's not cheap. There are bank records, I'm sure."

"Relax, Officer Hopps, that wasn't part of the questioning."

"Oh."

Describing Jin as "disheveled" is generous. It's a little hard to tell whether there are bags under his eyes or if it's just the whole raccoon thing, but he's definitely sleep-deprived...

"So, Bunnyburrows! That's the Home of the World's Largest Carrot, right?"

Nevertheless, he's got some startling energy.

"Oh, uh… yes, it's mounted in bronze at the Town Square. My dad was actually part of… part of the agricultural team that grew it. He said it was the 'crowning achievement of the Hopps Legacy.'"

"Really?" Jin laughs. "That's impressive! What strain of carrot was it?"

Judy looks at him a little funny, searching for the sarcasm. "It was a Touchon. Yeah, it's really something. He was really proud of it."

"Why wouldn't he be, Judy? (I hope it's alright if I call you that…) It takes a lot of skill and dedication to raise a healthy beauty like that. It's as much an art as a science!"

Judy can't help but crack the tiniest smile as she looks away. In the entire year she's been hopping around Zootopia, not a single person has asked about the carrot farm, not positively. She feels twinge of rustic pride.

"That's exactly what my dad used to say. He'd claim to feel how the carrot was growing through the dirt and make adjustments. He used to call himself 'Vincent Van B'rrow.'"

"Hah, that's good!" Jim chuckles. "What a perfectly typical dad joke."

"Oh, and he had plenty of those. He would get on a roll and my mom would roll her eyes and try not to laugh and then we couldn't stop him from going on and on."

"I'll bet. Do you ever miss them?"

Judy looks back at him, and Jin looks a little nostalgic himself, like he's remembering her family dinners as well as she does.

"Yeah, I do. It's… actually the one thing I really miss about home."

"I don't doubt it for a second. Zootopia's nothing like the Burrows, that's for sure. It gets tough here. Life's a jungle. But you know that; you've been here, what…? A year?"

"A little over."

"Wow, that's no easy feat. You should feel proud of that."

"Thank you." Judy suddenly does feel proud of it.

"And your very first case was the Nighthowler Outbreak. Talk about a tough intro to the Zoo."

Judy nods, remembering the wildly unpredictable summer, the opposition at every turn from every side, and all the times she was on the brink of quitting. "It was… definitely not easy."

"I can imagine. The Zoo's not friendly to anybody, least of all newcomers. But you made it. Congratulations!"

She feels a little hot in the face. There's been a lot of attention and compliments over the past six months for the success she had in the Savage Summer, but this feels strangely personal and genuine, like he was… what? Admiring her?

"So, you volunteered for the Otterton case?"

"Yes."

"At Dawn Bellwether's insistence?"

"Hmm?" Judy tilts her head, sliding an ear onto her shoulder. "No, I volunteered because I just felt so bad for Mrs. Otterton. She came in to the precinct so helpless and nobody was doing anything, so..."

"Was Dawn Bellwether there when you volunteered?"

"Well, no. I, err... _signed up_ with Chief Bogo and then ran into her right outside the Chief's door."

"Was she waiting for you?"

"What? No… why would she be waiting for me?"

Jin looks down at the contents of the manila folder in front of him for the first time since he's started talking. His face is transformed, suddenly curious and incredulous but no less intense than before.

"Judy, what is the nature of your relationship with Ms. Bellwether?"

Her nose twitches.


	4. The Only Sensible Way - part 3

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 3)**

* * *

His nose picks up the scent before it falls.

Nick steps out of the way, turns around, and catches the coffee cup that would've spilled on him if he'd stayed put. He steadies himself on the desk beside him and takes a breath.

"Oops, my bad," Officer Wolford announces. His voice booms, carrying the deep bass of his casual Outback Island accent through the room. He doesn't look sorry in the least way.

Nick sets the coffee cup back into the cardboard holder from Snarlbucks and steps back. "No harm, no foul."

Officer Wolford grins in the most insincere way possible. "No no, I'm _**so**_ sorry. Clumsy me, you woulda been soaked in that coffee, Wilde."

All nearby officers conspicuously avoid looking like they're watching, despite obviously straining the limits of peripheral vision. It's been two weeks and he's felt exactly this watched the entire time, only now _he_ can plainly see the stares out of **his** peripheral vision. Nick stands between the water cooler and an empty desk; there is no reason Officer Wolford should be over there, much less already holding several drinks.

"Thank goodness fah dos impressive reflexes."

"That's what Mom used to say every morning. Right before almost spilling breakfast on me."

"Hahah! Sucha clever fox!" Wolford booms. Nick squints a bit, fighting a wince. Everything about the situation feels seven kinds of weird. "Sucha clever, crafty fox. Sure's a good thing we got you on our side, isn't it, Officer Crafty?"

All eyes, even those across the room, watch his direction. Without waiting for a response, Wolford continues. "You better be careful, real careful. We walk a tightrope here at District One, and we're the best in Zootopia. The BEST. We look out fah each other, and we lock away crafty animals by. the. hour."

Nick panics inside. It's a rare but unmistakable feeling: the same dread he got back in the day when he was caught dead-to-rights in the middle of a con, when every excuse was batted to the side, when every option was exhausted, every back up plan and reinforcement and escape route completely vanished from the playing field.

It was the feeling of being totally, unequivocally exposed.

"Word is you _**crafty-ed**_ ya way around some of the training we all been through. Made some _real_ clever solutions to a test of strength and _character_. I don't know how you made it, but if that's true, then you were lucky to pass. But you better watch yourself close, fox, 'cause well..."

Wolford leans in, so close Nick can feel the hot breath on his cheek, and speaks quietly.

"...That luck could run out."

* * *

"Lucky? You're going to insist that all of your interactions were coincidence? That Bellwether approached you by chance?"

Judy tries conjuring reason with fruitless waves of her arms. "Yes! 'By chance,' I'm friendly and a protector of the people, and it is a baffling 'coincidence' that somebody who felt oppressed reached out to me."

"So you agree that she was oppressed?"

"I said she ' _felt'_ oppressed."

"But you sympathize with her cause?"

"Yea—no. No, not her cause. Her plight? Yes."

"So you two had a disagreement about methods."

"No! Not in person. I never heard her talk about her plans; I had no idea what she was planning! It was a complete surprise when we uncovered it. Nobody was more caught off-guard than I was. You can ask my partner Nick."

"Right. The fox."

A hollow ache settles into her chest. Judy suddenly regrets nothing more than bringing Nick's name to the table. Just as suddenly, she feels massively guilty for feeling regret in the first place. Nick's wounded face flashes across her mind.

"Did you clear him as a CI with the department?

"No, I didn't. But he was acting strictly as a confidential informant the entire time."

"He never entered sensitive or restricted areas?"

"No," she says without batting an eyelash. In her entire life, she's never lied so earnestly and without hesitation. She segues the conversation immediately. "I was new to the force, and I didn't know how to—"

"They didn't teach you how to declare informants in training?"

"They did."

"And you got top marks in school."

"The system didn't accept my requests for support."

"Your Captain denied you permission to acquire an informant and so you did it without consent?"

One blatant lie at a time was more than enough for Judy; the truth needed to be the focus here. "...Yes."

"And added a second criminal to the list of people helping you uncover a conspiracy within the ranks of city officials."

"Yes."

"Have you read Officer Wilde's criminal record and psych evaluations?"

Judy hesitates. She not considering lying again; it's just never occurred to her to look through his records. Why would she invade her partner's—no, her _friend's—_ privacy like that?

"...I have not."

"Never?"

"No."

"Oh." Jin jots a note down into his tattered notebook.

The feeling of guilt starts creeping over her tiny chest again. The network window is open on the computer at her desk. It would be so easy to just type in 'Wilde' into the criminal database and...

"The report says Bellwether helped you at several key moments in the investigation. Why would she help you uncover her conspiracy?"

"She didn't. At least, I don't think she was—"

"What would she gain from sharing resources with you?"

"I-I don't know… She—"

"Did you return the favors?"

"No! Never. They were just favors."

"Is Bellwether your friend?"

"No."

"Was Bellwether your friend?"

"No!"

"Judy, was your Dawn friend?"

"I barely knew her!"

"She was seen and heard on several occasions to have pulled you close and said, quote: 'Us little guys have to stick together.'"

He's so intense, Judy can almost feel his whiskers brushing her face across the table. Worse still, he continues to look like he might switch to a question about the carrot farm any second. Her mouth hangs slightly open, suddenly drier than the air in Sahara Square.

"I told you, I'm friendly. She… I don't know why…"

"There was nothing in the case file before you arrived. How does a rookie cop on her first case stumble into every clue when the best officers on the force have been tearing at the impenetrable, impossible conspiracy for weeks?"

"Nothing in the case? There was a photo! That's how I did it: I started with that photo and followed every lead."

"There was no photo. Everybody at the DA's office remembers that file being empty, as well as the officers interviewed here. We were well aware of the lack of evidence, lack of leads, lack of everything. Until you arrived."

"What? It was definitely there. That doesn't make sense…"

"You're right, it doesn't. Judy, you have no idea how much I want to believe you." Jin's brow is furrowed and high. Every word is mournful. "I need to know the truth."

"I'm… telling the truth. I…"

"Help make things right, Judy. What Bellwether did is unheard of. She hurt a lot of innocents, she betrayed her city."

"She betrayed me too."

Jin leans in, extending a hand of comfort. "And who did you betray?"

It's Judy's turn to transform. She presses herself up from the chair with one muscled leg and plants both hands on the table. Every scrap of intensity gathers at her face.

"I would _**never** _ betray this city. I love Zootopia with every hair on my body." She wears a primal mask; it's the face of a mother bear, the face of a charging bull, the face of a pouncing lion. "I am a loyal public servant. I am consummately passionate about protecting all citizens and upholding every law. Ask any of my fellow officers."

"I will."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."

She's out the door before the raccoon can answer.

* * *

The answer reaches Nick's tongue. He takes a step forward, summoning the nonexistent reserve courage in his stomach and... Judy grabs him by the collar as she storms past.

"We're leaving!"

Nick stumbles a step but quickly falls in line.

"Good talk, Wilde!" Wolford calls from far away.

They charge through the front door of the precinct without giving a second look back.


	5. The Only Sensible Way - part 4

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 4)**

* * *

There's a thick tension during the car ride. Or there would be if either partner was aware of the other. Instead, kaleidoscopes of thought dance through minds of bunny and fox alike as the large buildings whizz by. The tall offices of downtown Savannah Central dwindle and the windows moisten as they drive, with neither partner noticing the changes.

Every stop sign takes a toll on the brake pads of the patrol car with abrupt, last-minute halts. Every turn is sharp and pushed. Every yellow light sends the pedal to the floor. The entire vehicle is in an absentminded hurry.

But it isn't until his head literally hits the window that Nick responds: "Geez Hopps, you wanna take it easy there? I don't wanna have to give you a ticket."

The sudden sound of speech (as well as hearing her actual surname in place of a nickname) cuts through the daze.

"Oh sorry, I… Sorry, Nick."

Jarred from his thoughts, Nick suddenly notes the awkwardness of the ride. "You okay, Jude? At the risk of deja vu, you seem quiet."

"No, yeah. I'm fine… We just need to make it through so many crime scenes today that I'm a little bit… distracted."

"What did that guy want? What was his name, Glen? Jill?"

"Nothing, just some... just some boring legal paperwork about the old case. Trying to settle some accounts and damages." She winces internally: technically true…

"Do you need me to vouch for you? I can testify that everything we did was necessary. Actually wait, no, I probably shouldn't testify. I could just find him and talk to him. Gimme his name. I'll—"

"No!" she answers a little too enthusiastically. "No, I—err, no it's okay. I think he got what he wanted. What about you? Were you in the middle of something with Wolford back there? I didn't mean to interrupt but, you know, we were late and all..."

"Oh, no big deal, nothing really," Nick responds without hesitation. "He was just welcoming me to the team. Guy stuff. No big deal."

Silence settles between the partners as they stew in heart-heaviness.

Block by block, the air grows heavier—in this instance, both figuratively and literally. The edges of the windshield grow opaque and the trees grow taller as the fox and bunny drive deeper into the heart of the Rainforest District.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Nick slams the door behind him and pauses for a moment at the trunk of their patrol car, watching over the small shopping complex. It's gorgeous in a wasted way: small shops of knick-knacks and convenience built directly into the mighty, towering kapok trees like a village for a mythical civilization instead of the poorer citizens of the wet territory.

"This is the site of the first robbery. We'll have to work our way down the list." Judy joins him. "Do you recognize this place?"

"Recognize? This place is like home! Open the door and on your right there's going to be two aisles of ethnic beauty products: imported coconut oil, shedding brushes, fur relaxer, stuff like that. Behind that'll be cotton swabs and nail clippers that break if you look at 'em too hard and shampoos that look homemade. From right to left, the aisles are gonna be: obviously-fake silverware and dishes; off-brand, plasticy candy and cereal with names like Fruity Zooms; evil-looking, hideously deformed clones of quality toys and dolls; surprisingly good quality gardening tools and car junk; clothes you would buy for the burial of a person you hated; and five aisles of food that's vaguely packaged and should probably be refrigerated. Lastly, there will be a cat behind the counter with a messy long ponytail and she'll glare at you the entire time you're inside."

"Wow, is this actually your home? And have you considered moving closer to Downtown?"

"Laugh it up, Carrots, but if you've been in a One Buck, you've been in all of them, and literally every district has them. I take you haven't ever been?"

"They don't have any in Bunnyburrows when I was growing up. At least, I never saw any. But we didn't shop in town much. Pa and Ma grew or made pretty much everything."

"Well, Downtown Savannah Central has one like every other block. Growing up, there was one right by my old man's place, and we used to go all the time when I was there."

"Oh, that's neat…" Judy considers a bit before answering delicately. "...I didn't know your parents were divorced."

"Oh. They're… not."

He walks ahead.

Judy follows after, a bit confused, but catches up just as they reach the door.

"Let's take a peek, shall we?" Nick asks and creaks the door open.

The inside is exactly as he described, down to the irritated-looking Persian with dyed blue hair glaring at them. She seems unconcerned with their uniforms, so they nod and walk right on in.

"Any idea where the manager's office is?"

"Ugh, do I ever," Nick responds. "Follow me."

He leads the way past forests of brightly-colored plastic and torn boxes. Distorted faces and exclamations cover every inch of packaging around them. After a walk that seems miles longer than it actually is, they arrive at the back corner of the room where a tiny office squeezes in beside the only restroom of the establishment.

Judy knocks on the frame of the open door and leans in. "Hello—"

"A dingo robbed my baby!"

"Ahh!" Judy hops back from the ferret leaning over his desk to the door. He stares back madly, wide-eyed behind large, round glasses and wears a nametag reading "Mortimer Ferreton." She forces a smile.

"Good morning Mr. Ferreton—"

"—Morty's just fine, Officer."

"Morty."

"A dingo robbed my baby."

"I saw that movie," Nick adds, stepping in beside them.

"What?" Judy glances out of the corner of her eye.

"The one with Meryl Sheep."

"Meryl Sheep robbed the One Buck Store?"

"A dingo robbed my store!"

"I'm sorry, Mort—"

"—It was about a woman whose baby went missing on Outback Island—"

"The robbery wasn't on Outback Island, it was here, in my store!"

"—Pretty good, if you're into that sentimental stuff. Which I'm not, sooo…"

"Nick!" Judy pleads.

"Alright, I like sentimental crap every now and then."

"It was a dingo! I know it!"

"OKAY!" Judy shouts, a little louder than she planned. "Let's all calm down a _teensy_ bit and assess the situation. Morty: explain the encounter, please."

"Yes, that's right. Yes, okay, mmm... I was in aisle six, near the back, stacking boxes of incontinence pads—that's adult diapers. A lot of people think diapers are only for children, but after a certain age, the elderly often encounter challenges in their renal and urinary syst—"

"—the robbery, Morty."

"Oh, excuse me, mmm right, the dingo. I was stacking the boxes and he seized me from behind. Then he tied me up and robbed my store."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Judy answers. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. I mean, apart from the arthritis in my left hand. And the weird clicking my right elbow. My mother says it comes from a lack of character—"

Nick interrupts. "What did he take?"

Morty looks back, a little dumb. "He emptied the register."

"And?"

"He took some bedding. Umm... several of our nicer blankets and pillows. I couldn't quite turn my head, but I believe he stole several plastic floral arrangements."

Judy continues: "What about cameras?"

"We don't sell cameras."

"What do the security cameras _show_?"

"We're a One Buck, Officer Rabbit, not a Snobby Lobby."

"Why were you alone?" Nick leans in past the doorway to the edge of Mortimer's personal space. "Why wasn't there another employee?"

Mortimer stares back, a bit frazzled. "I-I… Zoe called in sick that night, it was very inconvenient, and I couldn't anybody else to come into work. I didn't want to but I was forced to come in."

"Why were you in the back turned around? Seems like a pretty obviously bad position to be in. Kinda inviting danger."

"I-I-I didn't really think about it… I never work alone and…" Morty flounders. He stops to turn Judy in bafflement. "Is this how the ZPD treats victims?"

"No, please excuse us for one moment."

She mentally throws her hands in the air and physically yanks Nick back out of the office. Interviews with robbery victims had never been easy, but this was ridiculous.

"What are you doing, Nick?!"

"He seems fishy."

"He seems like somebody that got his store robbed."

"But his story is full of holes."

"Listen Nick," Judy puts both hands on the sides of his face and brings it into hers. "I don't know what's up with you today, but you can't blame the victim without a solid lead, and you certainly can't do it to their face."

"I'm sweating him. If he knows something, he spills it; if he doesn't, he knows we mean business. Classic con tool. Always works."

"You can't do that. We're police."

"...Police officers do it even more."

"Well, this police bunny doesn't!"

A tense moment hangs between them. The Siamese clerk stares with boredom from across the store.

"Okay, okay… I'm sorry." Nick pulls back and straightens his police uniform. "I don't know what came over me, I guess I've been a little distracted today. You go ahead and take the lead. I'll get my head back on straight and support."

"Thanks." Judy smiles, not thinking it would be that easy. She steps back into the office and pulls out a small notepad with her carrot pen. "Now, can we get a good description of the mugger?"

The dingo stands at 46 inches, head-to-toes, in the middle of the One Buck Store.

Cream-colored fur fills his stomach and muzzle; sandy brown colors the rest. He is trimmed close and neat, practical and not stylish in the slightest bit. He is slightly athletic, even though he hasn't worked out in decades; just part of his natural physiology, he supposes. There are no unusual markings on his body, and his clothes are unremarkable.

The only unusual thing on his person is the black ski mask pulled over his face.

And the cat employee bleeding out in his arms.


	6. The Only Sensible Way - part 5

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 5)**

* * *

 _thump-thump-thump-thump_

Nick tries to concentrate on the magazine in his paws, but the shaking desk makes it really almost impossible.

 _thump-thump-thump-thump_

Judy stares intently at her computer screen, moving her lips with each line of the article she reads. Her leg thumps nervously against her desk, shaking the whole thing along with Nick's. "There's no matches in the criminal database."

"Hmmm…"

 _thump-thump-thump-thump_

"Did you find anything out with your contacts in the… uh… _suspicious_ parts of town?

"Nope, I didn't get anything from Sab—mmm, from anybody. The streets' are silent." He turns the page in the magazine. "That's weird…."

"I know. It's really unlikely we're dealing with a first-time offender here. But dingos are not exactly common around the Rainforest District, we've got tabs on some of the criminal ones, and nothing seems to match the description Morty gave us."

 _thump-thump-thump-thump_

"I can't believe it!"

"I know! What're we supposed to do with no information?"

"No, this walrus mom lost 47 lbs eating nothing but butter." Nick closes the thin magazine on his desktop. "Science is incredible."

Judy leans over the desk and peers at the sheets. She drops back with eyebrows at full height. "Woah woah woah, is that the Natural Enquirer? Nicholas Piberius Wilde, you read the Natural Enquirer?"

"Judith Carrot Hopps, you don't?"

"Are you kidding me? That rag's nothing but made-up gossip about celebrities and wacky conspiracy theories about the government. (And you know my middle name's not Carrot.)"

"Whaaaat? Carrots, this is top-grade, high-quality journalism. This is like… underground news. The voice of the people."

Judy's little mouth hangs open as she stops mid-computer-click. "No, it's a trashy tabloid with no facts. You remember _facts_? That thing we don't have enough of for the case we're working?"

"Are you still mad about earlier with that goofy manager? I said I was sorry."

Judy is just about to protest when the phone rings. Nick welcomes the distraction with a snatch. "Officer Hopps can't come to phone right now, can I—?"

His face drops.

"Oh—"

* * *

"—no oh no oh no oh no..."

The dingo wheezes, searching around the One Buck with desperate eyes, apparently convinced that the answer is sitting on the shelf between an open box of Fruity Zooms and Toasty-Os.

He can't look down. His paws are wet with a sticky red fluid, and it takes all of him not to lose it.

"...please be okay, please please please be okay..."

The Persian coughs weakly and mutters: "I'm fine, just wrap my—" But the dingo can't hear it. He can't tell if it's a major wound, but the blood is plentiful enough to stain the cat employee's vest and his dread seems to amplify the flow to a torrent. He's freaked, swirling guilt and panic and solutions and excuses in his head like a blender in a blender.

"..think think think Think Think Think THIN—"

"THIS IS THE ZOOTOPIA POLICE DEPARTMENT."

He leaps mightily backwards, crashing into a small display of off-branded potato chips, as if the announcement from outside physically shoved him away. The dingo grows—somehow— _more_ freaked.

"Slowly exit the store with your paws raised. Do not attempt to—"

He runs.

* * *

"I'll breach; you follow."

For once, Nick doesn't argue. He nods and gives himself a pat down. Months ago, Judy passed on the wisdom of her equipment check routine; patting herself in the places where her equipment was supposed to be: wrist, left hip, right hip, back pocket, shirt pocket. It was meant to be a preparatory technique; she aimed to be ever-ready for surprise inspections during academy and emergency scenarios on the street. But Nick has come to rely on it like a safety net, deriving under stress a modicum of fake confidence with each equipment check.

It provides no such confidence in that moment.

The two ZPD officers stand at the back entrance of the One Buck, inches from the door.

"We have to be completely quiet," Judy continues, voice low and measured. "We can't spook the suspect or appear too threatening. That means we—"

 **WHAM!**

The door flings open directly into both unaware officers. The heavy door clips Nick and spins him a bit away but catches Judy with the whole blow and bashes her full-force into a nearby dumpster.

The dingo stumbles but scampers away toward the wire fence of the shopping complex.

"Judy, are you—?"

"I'm fine!" She struggles to catch her breath. "I'll chase after the dingo, you take care of the cat inside. We'll—"

"I don't know first aid! I'll chase him, you go inside."

"Nick!"

"Judy, the girl in there needs you." He takes off toward the tall wire fence, yelling his last words over his shoulder. "Trust me, I got this."

Judy inhales deeply, regaining her wind amid noxious fumes of rotten food and leaking cleaning products. She hopes he's right.

* * *

Nick touches down with both paws, tucks neatly into forward roll, and ends up in a strong, vigilant crouch. It's a five-star landing straight out of the academy training manual. If Judy could see it, she'd be proud. If Judy could see it, Nick thinks, she'd already be running. But where?

The jump dropped him smack dab in the middle of Mane Street, the major artery of Savannah Central. As a major shopping and business center for all of Zootopia, the avenue branches off into many large streets is packed fang to fur. Packs and herds saunter and zip, occasionally spilling mammals large and small into the streets. It's a motley of business fronts; big stores, little stores, selling everything from haute cuisine to tchotchkes. A sea of conflicting purposes and destinations.

And not a single—there!

Nick catches sight of a black ski mask messily laid on the curb. He darts from the wall, crosses the street, and snatches the evidence off the street corner.

Eyes scanning… scanning… scanning… there!

The dingo makes eye contact with Nick from in front of a tiny, crowded purse store ("Mooie Vuitton up to 75% off!") only a block and a half away and freaks out.

Nick sprints straight into the crowd.

"Stop right there, you—ouch, c'mon!"

He throws a dirty look at the hippo who shoved him, but she's already moved along. Ahead, the dingo clutches a black plastic bag fiercely and puts distance between them by the second.

"Step aside, folks. Zootopia Police Department!"

A few glances, mostly out of annoyance for noise, not deference to the message. Nick sighs and rolls his eyes. "ZPD! Get outta the way or get tased!"

A quick shove lets the crowd know he's serious and gets them moving as he races down the pavement. "Stop right there!"

The dingo struggles with the crowd enough for Nick to close the distance to just under an entire block. Still not close enough.

They race down the street in jagged zips. Nick squeezes between two bears holding hands, rounds an strolling elephant, and vaults over a family hamsters. The heavy amount of children enjoying the afternoon on the biggest street in Savannah Central complicates everything so much and doubles the necessary acrobatics. (Nick finds himself huffing heavily — no amount of training gets you used to the difficulty of navigating huge crowds at top speed, but he swears to find a way to keep the cardio training up without a drill sergeant breathing down his neck…)

Still so far away...

Nick watches the intersections go by — Eighth Street, Merchant, Seventh, Commerce, Sixth...— and suddenly wonders where they're going.

If it'd been him, many moons ago, he'd have headed straight for the first safehouse he knew. That's common criminal sense: lose the tail, get to a hole, wait out the heat. He'd been trailing behind the dingo since he came over the fence, so where was he going?

Third Street.

Market.

Second.

It suddenly hits him like lightning—Savannah Central Station. The dingo isn't thinking straight; he isn't looking for a hiding spot but an actual, honest-to-goodness escape route like in the movies. What was this guy thinking?

"Officer Wilde, respond."

"I'm in pursuit. Heading toward Savannah Central Station. All available officers need to—"

Up ahead, the dingo arrives at the turnstile for the Central Station entrance of the ZTA system and then… stops.

Nick would let out an audible "what?!" if he had the breath for it. Instead, he sprints full-force as the dingo hesitates at the turnstyle. Is he going to PAY for a ticket?! Nick thinks.

Just as the dingo shakes himself out of his stupor, Nick tackles him into the turnstile, over the bar, and onto the floor. They both go sprawling and the black plastic bag slides, tearing on the side and spilling a few orange plastic bottles.

Nick props himself up, struggling to catch breath (he was DEFINITELY going to have to more cardio training…), but the dingo is already sweeping the bag up with the spilled bottles.

"S-stop right... (cough) sweet cheese… Stop right there!"

The dingo freaks for the last time and sprints straight across the plaza.

Nick takes a few steps after him, but it's no use—the dingo dashes into the first car of a subway train painting with thick blue lines just as the doors close behind him. The whole train jolts to life and takes off without further hesitation, stealing his target away completely clean.

Well, not completely…

Nick kneels down and plucks an orange bottle off the ground, an empty medicine bottle souvenir from the black bag.

Around him, the Metro police arrive and start asking questions.

But Nick stares at the bottle.

What's going on here?


	7. The Only Sensible Way - part 6

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 6)**

* * *

She's past the point of _thumping_ by the time their shift is over and the night shift is on. Judy stares at the computer screen with baffled scrutiny like it's an ancient text. A digital scan of a transparent-orange, plastic medicine bottle takes up most of the monitor; the label is scratched up badly, leaving most of the information illegible save for a single first name. Various documents and prescriptions fill the rest of the screen space.

"Are you coming, Farmer Jude?"

"...ungh..."

Nick steps up to her desk, an olive green jacket thrown over his arm and a tired smile on his face. "It's quittin' time. Let's get out of here."

She doesn't look up at him. "...mmmm…"

"C'mon... I'll buy you a drink at The Thirsty Zookeeper."

"..."

"You know you can't say no to those carrot shakes. Let's go."

"Can you please take this seriously?"

Nick pauses. "...what?"

"We almost had a complete disaster on our hands today. Can you please recognize that, Nick, and take all of this a bit more seriously?" He raises both eyebrows in actual indignation. "I'm racking my brains here trying to figure out what to do about this case and you're not even—"

"Woah woah woah, time out." Nick holds his hands out and cuts her off. "First of all, look at me."

"I don't have time to—"

"Look at me, Judy."

She looks up to a very serious vulpine face.

"I _am_ taking this seriously. I let a suspect escape today, and I know ..." Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Officer Wolford slapping a large paw onto Officer Delgato's back as their group of cops stroll out of the room laughing. "...I know how that looks, especially as a rookie. It's not the best, but I'm going to fix that."

Nick shakes his head. "But this isn't about me... You've been on edge these last few days, like _really_ on edge, and I think something else is making you less determined and more… I don't know, blame-y? So what's really wrong here, Carrots?"

Judy hesitates. The interview with that lawyer raccoon flashes across her mind. "I… I… I don't know… I guess… maybe I got caught up in what Chief Bogo was saying to me yesterday? I didn't realize how… how far we were from being the best team we could be."

"Really?"

She shrugs. "I guess I feel bad about making assumptions."

He looks at her incredulously. It's true that it wasn't long ago when an assumption she made cut him to the very bone — when the city was under threat, Judy had doubted their partnership and assumed the worst of not only him but all predators. She'd made amends and they'd patched things up, but this just doesn't feel like the same issue...

Regardless, he shrugs it off. "Well, don't worry about it. I guess we should be making assumptions…" He squints at the image on Judy's computer monitor of the orange medicine bottle and the partial name visible on the torn label. "...about our friend, Robbie the dingo."

"I just can't figure it out," Judy answers, a little too eager to change the focus of the conversation. "There are no leads. We've got nothing from the criminal databases. We don't have a complete name or a good look from the cameras, so there's nothing to go off of. There's no pattern to the stores being held up, so we'd have to stake out every One Buck in Zootopia to catch anything, and Chief Bogo won't assign anybody else to help with this when there's a much bigger investigation underway. All we have is… 'Robbie.'" She sighs loudly, shaking her head of the pessimistic thoughts. "There _has_ to be something here. We've cracked a case on less before..."

Nick smirks. "And this time, you're not even partnered with an amateur."

"Amateur..." Judy holds a pensive expression. "Hey Nick, can I ask you a question that might be a little… weird?"

"Well, this already got weird, so shoot."

"Would you have done what 'Robbie' did?"

His throat suddenly feels a little dry. He can't help but glance around at the precinct and be thankful for the weirdly empty time between the evening and night shifts of ZPD. "When I told you that I was familiar with all the One Bucks in Zootopia, I wasn't _really_ saying that I'd… that I'd been casing them or anything. I'm not a… not a—"

"No, I mean…" Judy considers her words very carefully. "Do the robberies feel, I don't know how to describe it… sloppy? Dumb? Does that make sense?"

"No no, you're onto something. There's something definitely…" He pulls at his collar a bit before continuing. "There's two paths that lead an animal to… uh, 'work outside the law.'"

Judy's eyebrow rises, but she doesn't interrupt so he continues, gesturing with the growing emphasis of his words.

"One is the lifetime membership: you're born on the wrong side of the tracks; you barely fit in the bed with your six brothers and sisters; you start hanging out with the wrong herd for the right reasons; your old man takes you to Bring Your Kid to Work Day 'cause you're small and fit into tight spaces—" Judy fights her rampant curiosity and the urge to raise her eyebrows even higher at such specific scenarios. "—Whatever the sob story, you find yourself three miles down Guano Creek without enough money to rent anything at the paddle store. These kinda animals have a lot of things in common: a rap sheet reaching back to high school, friends in low places, and, if they're any good, safehouses and hideouts."

"Nick, as fascinating as that is," Judy answers, "I'm not really sure where you're going with this…"

"Hold on a second, Thumper, because the second path is the interesting part. Some people aren't career crimin—err, extralegal craftsmen. Some people just want or need something right there, right then. They're not looking to form a business, not looking to build favors or join a crew, just get at what they're eyeing from the outside and go back to being perfectly happy, goodie-two-shoes, law-abiding citizens of the great city of Zootopia."

"You think our frisky dingo Robbie fits in the second category?"

"I know it. He didn't have a solid plan for anything, didn't steal anything valuable, didn't go to a loaded place, didn't have a clean getaway, didn't have any safe places to hide."

"He hurt the cashier pretty bad. That doesn't seem very goodie-two-shoes."

"Eh, the cuts weren't deep, just fleshwounds, and probably an accident. The cat's statement mentioned they got tangled in the display case when he asked for the cash and it shattered on them. Plus, you saw how freaked out he was; I think he was more scared of the blood than getting caught. And he used the _SUBWAY SYSTEM_ as an escape, and he _hesitated_ to jump the turnstyle for the subway! He _hesitated_! Kiddie criminals don't even do that! Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have any idea _…_ "

"What is it?" Judy presses.

He pauses long enough that the peculiarity of the conversation turns a bit in her head. She's not used to so much deductive reasoning and detective work from her vulpine partner; it's… oddly invigorating, and she privately loves how quickly it makes her heart beat.

"I don't think he's a criminal at all. I think he's… I don't know, just some shmo caught up in something he can't handle. The cashier said he was really freaking out on her."

"The cat cashier. What did she say exactly? 'He was scared by…'?"

"'The blood,' I think, or something like that. I don't know. Sounds a little too delicate, not like anybody who would've made it ten minutes back where I grew up."

"No, it doesn't. I mean, he was freaked out by the blood. Not scared _**of**_ the blood like most people, but scared _**by**_ the blood. And then the medicine bottle…" Judy stands up from the desk. She moves deliberately, almost miming her thoughts as they churn in her small head. "I think… I think he's not just a regular schmo. I think he might be very, very sick. And… very, very desperate."

They silently mull over the possibility that hangs in the air of the quiet police precinct.

Nick breaks the silence with a resigned sigh.

"I know where we gotta go."


	8. The Only Sensible Way - part 7

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 7)**

* * *

Officer Judy Hopps leans against the rusted rails of a second-story walkway and looks over the apartment complex.

Each apartment building bears a matching haggard facade, differentiated only by a single riveted placard marking them Buildings "A" through "F." They share a single, small common pasture littered with broken bottles and abandoned furniture, more garbage than actual grass. Off to the side is a group of young dogs muttering and laughing occassionally, periodically throwing glances around the empty apartment field.

Just past the furthest apartment block (Building F) is a place she's seeing for the second time in twelve hours: the cramped shopping complex of a One Bucks. In gray dusky light, the tiny shops look considerably more rundown, the kapok trees look withered and haunting, and the entire plaza looks like a picture of urban desperation.

Judy's back in the Rainforest District, and she only barely knows why.

She looks down the walkway at the door of Apt A214, still closed, still hiding whatever Nick went to do and wouldn't discuss beforehand.

Stay down the hall, he said. Don't worry, it's not dangerous, I don't need back up, but we're only getting details if I go in alone.

She protested, of course, but he urged and insisted. In the second it took for her to come with some very reasonable arguments, he slipped away and into the apartment without an explanation or peek inside.

"C'mon Nick…"

They had cut through the shopping plaza parking lot wordlessly and slipped into an alleyway she hadn't even noticed the night before. Her questions about where they were going were met by a moist alley that assaulted her delicate rabbit senses with overripe odors and sticky surfaces. It had looked like the city garbage collected _maybe_ half of each dumpster weekly and plastered the rest all over the walls behind the shopping plaza. A gagging sensation had clung to her throat like a necktie.

And now…

Judy realizes she's been inching over to Apartment A214 while musing. If she leans over "accidentally," it's inevitable that she might overhear things, through no fault of her own. Craning her neck and leaning in, she peers into the window, past the drab blue curtains into the dark interior...

A thin, feminine snout sips bubbles from a glass bottle; it's owner sits casually on a kitchen countertop, narrowing dark eyes and curling a small bushy tail around her body. She leans back thoughtfully, comfortably in her olive green military jacket, then speak across the room without looking at Nick.

She seems halfway between amused and annoyed.

The inside of the apartment is… bizarre. Canvases of strange art cover the walls, though they're difficult to see with no lamps turned on. In fact, there are no lamps inside or any other furniture, for that matter, save for a weird metal bench in the middle of the living room where Nick sits, tail uncomfortably swaying back and forth.

Judy squints through the shadows and juggles her best guess: is the shady apartment owner... a sable? It's a relatively rare animal to see in Zootopia, even more so out in the Rainforest District. There aren't many neighborhoods where you would find them even if you were looking, so what could she be—

The sable abruptly smirks and makes eye contact with Judy from across the room, and she drops out of the window frame.

Careless!

 _Click._

"—Yeah, I wouldn't count on it..."

Nick slips out of the room and straight away into a trot.

Judy gulps and darts after Nick, avoiding the window but knowing almost for certain that at least one pair of eyes watching her exit.

He reaches the stairs and takes a single step before she calls out, "Nick!"

He winces and turns into a crouch. "Shhh, will you pipe down?"

"Only if you tell me what in bluebonnets just happened."

"Let's call it 'following up on a hunch.'"

"Should we be calling it 'against the law?'"

"Woah, keep your voice..." He seems briefly worried, glancing around, then calms himself. "I'll explain, just hurry up and please keep your optimism down to a shouting level."

They bounce down the stairs with purpose as Nick continues. "So, there's a little more to this place than I mentioned before..."

"What does that mean?"

"Listen, I know you're not a native, so I'll try to make this simple. Zootopia is... complicated. It's not the shiny, perfect city everybody fawns over in commercials and movies."

"Oh gosh, you mean it isn't really like _Za Za Land_?" Judy gushes, rolling her eyes at his patronizing tone.

"Okay, first, don't give me that sarcastic lip, I'm explaining something important. And second, you _know_ I don't like musicals or Lyon Gosling, so hush." He continues. "Now, where's the hot property in Rainforest District?"

"Well, I'm not too sure. I haven't really tried visiting yet, but it all seems pretty neat."

"Just guess."

"Up?"

"Exactly. Canopy is prime real estate in RD; the higher, the better. That's why they keep reinforcing the trees up there and connecting the branches further down." High above, the bustle of life flashes incessantly; even from so far away, the distinct sounds of life echo down the trees to their ears. "But every district, no matter how lush and beautiful and Zootopia-fied, has a class of people who can't afford to live there and can't afford to move. Guess where they live in the Rainforest District?"

They hop off the stairs and walk into the open grass that serves as a 'commons' for the complex. Judy looks around, expecting it to look different from her earlier view from the second story. It doesn't. Instead, all she gets are scowls from the group of young dogs that watch their every step.

But pieces do manage to click into place.

"Here."

"That's right. This is the place we're looking for." He lifts hands and waves at the depressing semicircle of apartment buildings. "Welcome to the ground-floor of the borough where elevation is everything. It's named Arbor Village, and it's a craphole."

"But why this neighborhood?"

"It's the lowest of the low. Good ole _Arbor Spillage_ is the community of immigrants and refugees that can't hide in Savannah or Tundra or wherever without the trees and dirt. It's a craphole."

"Yes, you mentioned that."

"Because it literally is. Did you know some of the higher communities just dump their sewage out the window and directly onto the ground floors? That's where the smell comes from. It's _literally_ a craphole."

As they cross the grass clearing, Judy has to openly fight to stifle a gag. "So... what exactly are we doing here?"

"Elementary, my Dear Cotton. There are two strikes against our good friend Robbie: (1) He's an amateur in way over his head and (2) he's poor and desperate. The blood, the escape, the hesitation, blah blah blah — everything says he has no idea what he's doing. The final proof is the fact that he broke the Golden Rule of the Hustle."

"...Don't ever fall in love?" Judy smiles at her own joke.

Nick smirks, jumping over a tipped-over trash can in the middle of the grass without batting an eye. "Cute, but no. The Golden Rule is: Never poop where you eat."

She doesn't know whether it's the added visual or the culminating olfactory effects, but she feels acid burn at the back of her throat and literally inhales for fresh air before continuing. "Maybe it's the country bunny in me, but I didn't think anyone had to make a rule about that...? Seems like common sense. Even on the farm, we had an outhouse."

"It's not literal, Carrots," he sings in response.

They arrive at the last apartment block in the arc, Building F: glass panes bear caked dust and spider web-like cracks; missing bars leave numerous gaps in the railing; one wall is plastered in inscrutable graffiti, with only the word "Agnus" remaining legible.

Nick knocks on the door of the first ground-floor apartment.

"It means you don't do shady business where you do your legitimate business. Don't steal from your neighbors. Don't con the businesses next to yours. Don't start fights right outside your window. Because (1) it's just rude. And (2) it leaves a pretty little trail for the police to follow right to your evidence-filled house. We almost caught him in the Savannah Central Station; where was the robbery before that?"

"The robbery before the last was in… Little Rodentia. And before that were two on Grass St in Savannah Central, and one off Marshland Blvd."

"And what do these places have in common? They're all on the Inner Loop subway line."

Judy's eyes light up. "Of course!"

Nick knocks again, loudly.

"And they lead up to the scene of the very first robbery…" Nick points a finger outward. "...right over in that dirty little One Buck plaza, which is…" He points in the opposite direction. "...less than two blocks from the Shady Place subway station on the same line."

Judy nods. "He gets to and from the crime scenes on the subway, which means he doesn't have a car."

"Eh-xactly, 'poor and desperate,' like I said. And because he has no idea what he's doing, he's led us back to the only poor and desperate craphole where he could possibly be…"

Nick spreads his arms, presenting the entire building as if on a gameshow with the world's worst prize.

"...Arbor Village."

"How did you figure all this out so quickly, Nick?"

"Because I was born in this craphole, Officer Hopps."

He knocks one time on the door, and it swings immediately open.


	9. The Only Sensible Way - part 8

.

* * *

 **The Only Sensible Way**

 **(part 8)**

* * *

"Alright alright already, enough with the racket! You want I should call the police? I've done it. I've already called them! Get out."

A large middle-aged walrus fills the entire doorframe. The kind of older lady that isn't and never was attractive and wants the world to know it. She would be a terrifying sight if her voice didn't sound like paint tastes.

"Well, you're in luck, _young_ lady... because we are the police," Nick answers, forcing a smooth grin and closing step. "Word around the apartment complex is that you're an upright citizen and vigilant, passionate defender of justice. We are looking for the residence of one _very_ sick dingo. Could you find it in your heart to help us with that?"

The hulking walrus stares down at him, incredulously. She wears a small sweater, despite the heat (and the blubber), and closes the top suspiciously as she answers. "How do I know you're not one of those police imposters I read about in the Natural Enquirer? They're very tricky, ya know, and they're always trying to terrorize vulnerable women that live alone."

Judy smiles and points at her badge. "I assure you, ma'am, we're the real thing. We're just looking to ask a few harmless questions for an investigation."

"That's Mrs. Edith Tuskelman to you, not 'ma'am!' And I pretty sure the Zootopia police department doesn't allow _cute_ cops on the force, so get off my doorstep because I'm calling the _real_ police…"

Judy flinches at the c-word and freezes her smile.

Nick steps in front of her. "Woah woah woah, Mrs. Tuskelman, dubious word choices aside, the ZPD has had a rabbit officer for an entire year now. Surely you've heard of celebrated hero Officer Judy Hopps?"

She whisper-shouts, "Nick, _not now..._ "

"This is her, in the fur! Zootopia's top police officer serving your community like the hero cop she is!"

Judy continues smiling; her mind swirls, her eye twitches, and she fights the urge to reach for her taser and use it on her everybody present.

Mrs. Tuskelman stares the tense bunny down. "Are you really a police officer?"

"I am, ma—uh, Mrs. Tuskelman."

"You have to tell me if you're scamming me, that's the law!"

"I promise I am not scamming you. And we need your help."

The glare continues unabated from the towering walrus. It seems like she can't quite make up her mind about the small uniforms in front of her and their nervous, smiling occupants.

"Not anymore."

"Pardon?" Judy asks without exhaling.

"The dingo. He's not sick anymore. Robert was his name, and he should have died, but he didn't."

"Why… why do you say that?"

"Well, he was hit by a car. He was a real smart dingo, that Robbie, a decent job, a lovely wife, but he got hit by a car from behind. It left him shattered, broken like a teapot. He should've died, but he didn't. Instead, they set him up with physical therapy at RD General Hospital and the most expensive painkiller medications I ever heard of."

Judy and Nick exchange worried glances.

"I haven't heard much from him lately. But I've seen him hobbling around the apartment complex from time to time looking like death—"

"—We're gonna need that address right now, Mrs. Tuskelman."

* * *

The air is stale and dry. It has the aura of the days of summer vacation when the novelty of not going to school has worn out and there's nothing to do and no one to do it with. It has the aura of an abandoned hospital wing recently exhumed. No warmth, no life.

They stand uncomfortably at a new doorway amid a single sound echoing around them: the creaking door that they just forced open—that _Nick_ just forced open.

"You shouldn't have just…" Judy mouths in a hushed tone. "We… we should've gotten a warrant."

The almost whisper feels appropriate in the cavern of the tiny apartment.

"I learned a trick from a certain hard-working bunny cop: you don't need a warrant if shifty lowlifes are prowling about," Nick whispers back. "And if we're right about this, there's definitely a shifty, One Buck-robbing dingo hobbling around here looking like death…"

"These are still just hunches."

"I remind you that hunches are what got you — what got us! — the case of the summer."

She doesn't answer but instead recalls the perfect, oft-seen memory of Chief Bogo hovering above her desk, every element of his visage smoldering in rage. Two options lay before her, and neither seems to satisfy the imaginary police chief.

The door finishes its arc with a quiet _thud_.

"Alright…" she starts. "Zootopia Police Department!"

A beat.

"If anybody is home, please come out slowly with your paws in view."

No answer.

She lifts an ear and concentrates. There isn't a single other sound except the muffled beat of music from down the hall.

"In we go..."

A step from the front door leads directly into the small combination-kitchen-and-living-room. With a square dinner table in the corner and a loveseat in the center, there's not really any room to hide. From the entrance, they can even see into the open doors of the empty bathroom and single bedroom.

Everything is tidy and neat but old: two proper place settings at the dinner table layered with dust; well-sorted piles of mail stacked high on the kitchen counter; blankets on the couch folded but faded into gray. The dying dusk light adds a final filter, making everything in the apartment appear just as stale as the air feels.

"I don't think anybody's been 'home' for a long while," Nick says with uncertain volume.

They step further into the apartment, letting the door creak close behind them.

Judy runs her eyes along the few furnishings of the three separate rooms as Nick presses further in: the thin curtains are drawn closed, shutting out the outside world; the sink is spotless but dry; the floor…

"There's no dust on the floor," she mentions.

"Really? Cause I see fur and little dust bunnies (pardon the expression) _everywhere_."

"In the corners, maybe. But not here at the entrance or there on the couch. Check the bedroom."

Nick disappears into the room as Judy wanders to the nearby heap of mail on the kitchen counter. She grabs a few of the top envelopes and sifts through them, not sure what it is she's looking for.

"You're right," Nick calls out, re-emerging from the cave-like bedroom. "It's neat, and it looks like the _Leave It to Beavers_ bedroom, but there's no dust. And the bedspread is wrinkled, like somebody slept on it instead of going under the covers."

An envelope catches her eye and she pulls out a photograph, an x-ray of a chest.

"Alright, this makes sense," Nick says slowly. "Robbie is poor and desperate for the very powerful meds that are helping him recover from his accident. So he's an amateur (in over his head) robbin' One Buck stores to pay for them. That means…"

She stares at the picture.

"...We got 'im." Nick smiles. "All we have to do now is stake out the apartment, wait for him to come back, and catch him. LIckety-split."

She traces lines.

"Even if he puts up a fight, we can have some actual back up this time and surround him. And yes, yes, you can chase him down and I'll secure the area."

She squints.

"Does that sound good to you, Cotton?"

Something doesn't…

"Judy?"

"Does this look weird to you, Nick?"

He leans over her to take in the photograph.

"I'm not a doctor, but it looks like an x-ray of a chest. I know life is innocent in the Burrows, but I'm sure even country bunnies get those done after they've been hit by a car, right?"

"Does this look like the chest of somebody who's been hit by a car to you?"

He peers in closely. Slowly, his eyebrows drift upward and answer the question.

Judy's eyes dart to the kitchen table for a moment...

...then she's off to the front door, calling out behind her.

"C'mon! I know where this is going."


End file.
